Deadly Intentions
by Kthorns0529
Summary: Gwen Summers is back in Beacon Hills. It's been five years since the pack graduated- not that she was a part of 'the pack.' All she knows is that something weird is going on in Beacon Hills, and that it seems to have to do with her and someone she thought was long since dead. Zombies? Maybe. Romance? Definitely. Chaos? Absolutely. (F/M) (M)


Chapter 1

I didn't know what to do with myself. It was too dark to be able to see clearly. The moon was nothing but an infinitesimal speck in the sky, and it certainly wasn't going to help me tonight.

Something weird was going on in Beacon Hills.

It's been five years since we graduated from high school and I hadn't expected to find myself back here so soon. I was wrong. _So wrong. _I didn't want to step foot in the same house I grew up in, but I couldn't put it off any longer. It was time for me to get down to business and face my life as it was today. I didn't have a choice any longer.

My parents were dead, and my childhood home was now my responsibility. Except, upon my arrival in Beacon Hills, I ran into Melissa McCall and she informed me that Scott was coming home, too. With Stiles. I ran into Derek on my way to grab coffee this morning. Peter Hale stopped me to say hello when I went to the grocery store before I finally worked up the courage to come to this empty house.

It wasn't running into people from my past that had me feeling uneasy, however. It was the fact that when I got home, when I pulled onto my street...I thought I saw someone who _didn't _make it to our graduation. Someone who bailed. Someone who died...

It's hard to pretend like seeing his old house across the street didn't sting, especially since I've been gone for five damn years forgetting about his existence. Trying to. Failing at it, honestly.

Something weird was calling us home, though, and it would seem I'm not the only graduate who felt the need to be back in Beacon Hills before the full moon hit.

The key turned easily in the knob as I knew it would. I kept an eye on this place frequently, but I didn't have the guts to sell it just yet. It was dark and empty and it smelled lonely.

It was quiet, too quiet, but not more so than my apartment back home. New York was a long ways away from California and I loved every fucking mile that separated me from this painful past, and I wouldn't lie about it.

I sighed heavily and tossed my keys into a small ceramic bowl near the front door before I closed it tightly behind me. I flicked on the living room light, noting that absolutely nothing had changed from the last time I was here. And, how would they? I was the only one that visited this pile of bones and dust.

My heels were loud against the polished hardwood so I slipped them off and tossed them aside before I slipped out of my coat and piled it on the back of a chair in the dining room. The house was smaller, tidy, and done in soft neutral colors. It was cozy. It looked very different than it had when my folks passed on, but that was how I wanted it.

This was my home away from home, but I didn't take too much time out of my busy schedule to visit here. It was too hard sometimes. To come back here and think about all of the people that didn't make it to my present..._him. _

I found myself pressing the curtains aside so I could get a glimpse of the house across the street. It was dark, but I knew it'd been sold off to a new family years ago. I wanted so badly to see the same familiar head of curly hair in the upper right window, but I knew that dream was long dead. And, from what I'd heard, so is he.

Tears made my lips quiver and I hated the instantaneous response my body had to his memory, but I couldn't help it. I was human. Nothing special. Not a werewolf, not a hunter, not any kind of mystical creature...I'd been left behind long ago. I heard my phone ring from my purse and I let the curtain fall back into place before I palmed it and blinked when I read the name scrolling across my screen.

_Lydia Martin is calling..._

"Hello?"

"_Is this Gwen?"_

"Yes," I whispered. I heard a sigh, some rustling from the other end, and then what sounded like Lydia clearing her throat.

"_I was hoping your number was the same. It's been a long time...do you think you could meet up with me? We're all here, at the bar."_

"Why would you want me there? I know a lot of you have come back to town, but we didn't really hang out after-"

"_I know, and we're sorry about that. But, Gwennie, we __**really**_ _need to talk to you."_

I looked at the comfortable couch across the room, bit my lip, and slowly released a breath.

"Okay. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"_Thank you. We'll see you soon."_

As I hung up the phone I felt butterflies erupt in my belly and suddenly I didn't think being home was a good idea. Not at all.

/

This was a bad idea. I could feel it. I knew it was. There was something in the air that made me think that I was getting ready to make a really bad decision. Something I knew I would regret in the morning, if not right away. I hadn't seen these people in a really long time, and now I was going to meet them in a new hipster bar in the middle of Beacon Hills for a drink.

After they moved on with their lives like I never existed at all, like _he_ never existed. As I stepped inside, I felt the air shift slightly, something that gave me goosebumps. Was this it? Was this when I would discover why all of us seemed to be drawn back here at the same time?

Lydia saw me first. She smiled companionably, but it didn't reach her eyes. Something was wrong; I could practically taste it. Everyone sitting at the bar table was watching me with wide, somber eyes. Friendly, but somber. Stiles and Scott looked _exactly_ the same, albeit sporting a little more facial hair. Liam was here too, which surprised me, because he was the only one I hadn't seen yet. He dipped his head in my direction.

I did the same, noting that Derek and Peter were both watching me very closely. Like I would break. Like I would...randomly combust or shatter and part of me wanted to, just to see how they would react.

"Thank you for coming."

"You didn't really leave me much of a choice, did you?" Scott winced and glanced at Stiles before he swallowed audibly and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Tell me what's going on here so I can go home. It's been a long day, I'm tired, and I still have no fucking idea why the hell I came back here-," Scott's eyes flickered between red and gold before he was able to compose himself.

"You're in danger. Jackson called me from Paris two days ago to tell me that there is someone very powerful watching you."

"Me? Why? Who would be watching me?" I asked as I slid onto a barstool.

"His name is Tarren and he is a hunter. Think Argent, without a conscience."

"If I recall, his 'Conscience,' was questionable."

"Either way, he's bad news. Worse than what happened when we graduated."

"I don't want to go down memory lane, guys. Please just tell me what this has to do with me!" I felt like I was begging, but I didn't have a choice. No one would give me a damn thing to work with. Eyerone's expressions remained impassive, and that didn't settle well with me. They knew something. Something that was going to shatter me, and it'd been so long since I felt that way. I knew that whatever they were getting ready to tell me definitely had to do with the supernatural, and I was not going to like it.

"He's back." I looked to Scott, who was watching me intently, waiting for me to respond.

"Who is back?"

"Isaac."

_No. _

"Isaac is dead, as you already know. I don't know what kind of game you're playing at, but I don't fucking like it." My voice dropped to a throaty whisper as I glared at my old classmates, wondering why in the fuck they would be playing such an evil prank on me, but it was cruel. It hurt, felt like a million and one pieces of glass spearing my soft skin, and I didn't want to play anymore.

I grabbed my jacket, my purse, and jerked when I felt a hand close around my wrist.

"Do you really think I would call you down here for that kind of sick fucking joke? Jesus Gwen, I know we drifted apart, but I don't _hate _you." Derek's eyes were blazing red, deep and full of pain, but I couldn't believe what they were telling me.

"Isaac is dead," I whispered.

"He was. It's been seven years since I've seen him, Gwen, same as you. Do you honestly think any of us at this table would play that kind of prank on you? We loved him, too."

His voice reflected honesty, and I felt it, but I couldn't process what he was saying. Isaac was dead. He'd died in a tragic accident two summers after he left us. Even werewolves couldn't survive a three car pile up.

_He isn't back, they're mistaken. There is no way._

"What you're telling me isn't possible, Derek. We all went to his funeral. I saw his body. They called me in to identify-..." I couldn't say any more.

"Impossible like a werewolf? Or a banshee?"

I sucked in a harsh breath, glancing around the table. "So, what? What are you saying? Is he here? Did you talk to him?" Derek gripped me in his hold and slowly shook his head. My brows furrowed, confusion blooming inside of me. What did that mean, then?

"Why are we still sitting here is Isaac is out there somewhere, alive?"

"We were only sent footage of him, Gwen. Deaton had a break in, and when he reviewed the security footage, he was just as shocked as the rest of us. We've only seen the footage, we haven't been able to find him."

I saw a shot glass, filled to the brim, sitting near Stiles's hand and I snatched it in my shaky grip. I swallowed it whole, perturbed by the burn it left behind, but nothing I felt could replace the burn I felt in my heart.

"This is fucking insane. This isn't why I came back to town," I snapped. Scott's gaze narrowed in on me and he cleared his throat.

"Why exactly _did_ you come back?"

"I don't know. I just felt this overpowering _need_ to come home, and before I knew it, I was driving across the country to get here. I couldn't stop myself even if I wanted to." I explained. Stiles looked at Scott, who looked at Derek, who looked at Lydia, who looked back at me.

"What? Why did you guys come back?"

"Because, Deaton called me and told me what happened. I called the rest of the pack, and they came back to see if we could figure out what was going on," Derek told me. I ran a hand along the side of my jaw and shook my head.

"You think something magical is going on."

"I think it's incredibly odd that you came out here all on your own, yeah. Especially if a dead Isaac is roaming around town." I didn't appreciate the callous way Scott said that, but I would be fooling myself if I thought for one second the people here didn't care for him the same way I did. None of this explained why some european hunter was after me. What was I supposed to do with _that_ intel?

"I think I need to go. Thanks for calling me, for telling me, for whatever the fuck this little reunion was supposed to be. Have a nice life guys," I said softly as I gathered my belongings into my arms and stepped back from the table. I saw the outline of the front door and headed for it, fast, not giving a care about the people calling after me. I could barely see their reflection in the window panes of the front door as I pushed it open and sucked in the cool night air. Deep, necessary breaths to keep me from losing my mind..._This is not happening. Not now. Not at all. _I was right. Something weird is going on in Beacon Hills, and it's going to rip my heart into pieces.


End file.
